Embarrassment
by Heather Giesbrecht
Summary: His eyes widened as he recognized the man and he barely fought down the flush of embarrassment. What was he supposed to do now ? Alan/Thomas. Complete.


**Embarrassment**

Firelight and lantern light gleamed hazily off polished oak as Alan McMichael left his seat at the table. Say what you wanted about the food but he'd be damned if the English didn't make you feel welcome when drinking. People milled about mainly English, a few Scottish and Irish or Germans and sang songs. He tried walking and blundered right into a rowdy table of Englishmen. His speech undeniably slurred as he said, "I'm sorry, really, I am."

Two of the burlier men got up to loom over him. The rightmost man with the red-hair, "You, I know you, you're one of those fancy American blokes at the university. One of your lot broke my little sister's heart."

"Look, it wasn't me but I can try talking to him for you."

Both of the men moved toward him forcing him to back up, "Nah, I don't want to talk, you can show him."

Nearly he screamed when he bumped into someone and they put a hand on his shoulder. Another Englishman's voice, this one smoother than silk. "Now, now, gents, there's no need to get rough. Think about it, this is pointless, he's damn near drunk off his onion and likely won't even remember what you beat him up for in the morning. Go on, back to drinking you lot."

With some annoyed grumbles the two men sat back down. He turned around and met the deepest blue eyes he'd ever seen, even deeper than Edith's and just as gorgeous. Pale skin deepened the colour of those dark sapphire eyes, the pale pink bow-shaped lips and a glimpse of black hair below a top hat.

Utterly mesmerized, Alan asked, "Who are you ?"

Those lips twitched into a faint smile, "Thomas, Thomas Sharpe. You would be ?"

"Alafan, Alafan Mickmickel." His cheeks flushed and he corrected, "Erm...Alan, Alan McMichael."

Thomas laughed, "I think you're just a bit tipsy, Mr. McMichael. Perhaps I should take you to your room, no ?"

For some reason the title bothered him, "I'm going to be a doctor in two weeks time, you know."

Thomas started steering him through the crowd, the hand maneuvering to become a warm arm wrapped around him. At his news one of Thomas's eyebrows quirked. "Doctor, you say ? Well, my congratulations...for staying on your feet until now. You are quite a ways from the university, do you have any friends nearby that I might drop you off ?"

"Pfft, no, they live on the other side of Lonod, London, I mean, London. By God, I'm just embarrassing myself tonight aren't I ?"

Gas lamps, cobblestone and hansom cabs shone in the fine sprinkle of rain as he and Thomas exited the pub. "You haven't truly embarrassed yourself until you've gotten sick on someone else's shoes, Dr. McMichael."

Impulsively, he looked down at Thomas's, they were well worn but also well polished black leather ankle boots. "You do have nice shones, Sharpe." Then there was the black pants and frock coat, dark grey waist-coat with a silver pocket watch and a red cravat to complete Thomas's rather handsome outfit.

"I'll just take you to my hotel room then shall I ? Watch out !"

"Wha ? Ah-h !" He clutched onto the lithe man as a cab galloped right past them, right over where he would've stood had Thomas not pulled him back. Shaken, he would remember for the longest time only a blur of blue eyes, black hair and pale skin before he awakened alone in a white-blanketed bed.

Weeks passed and he forgot about the man until Eunice was sat beside him blathering about some baronet who was courting her. Mother got up from the picnic blanket as a man in a black frock coat and top hat approached them. "Sir Thomas, it is ever so good to see you again."

He thought it was just a trick of the mind when, "Thank you, Mrs. McMichael and it is my pleasure to meet you here." sounded so familiar.

Except, the black-gloved hand doffed that hat and his eyes widened as he recognized the man's face. Pale pink lips kissing him, his own lips pressed hungrily against the hard-muscled thigh, fingers twined in his hair, sapphire eyes half-lidded as he..., Barely he fought down the flush of embarrassment. What was he supposed to do now ?

Sir Thomas Sharpe didn't seem to recognize him or else the man was a very fine actor. "Ah, you must be the new Dr. Alan McMichael. Eunice has told me so much about you."

Reluctantly, he got up to shake Thomas's hand, "Yes, I am, and Eunice simply cannot stop talking about you, Sir Thomas." The soft but firm grip made him flinch as he remembered it stroking his flesh.

"Good things, I hope."

"Indeed, very good things. She tells me that you have a sister, what was her name again ? Lady Lucille ?"

"Mhm, she really is quite anxious to meet everyone."

Approximately two months later...

It surprised him when Thomas whispered, "Show me where." His fingers slid across his stomach to stop between kidney and liver, hoping Thomas was as good with the knife as he was otherwise. That warm arm slid around his waist and he gasped as the knife slid in deeply, those pretty eyes full of regret when he fell into the snow. Pain, burning, was all he knew, except somewhere in the distance Edith was screaming about Thomas being a monster.

Alan slid in and out of consciousness while the Englishman half-dragged him into the elevator. Blood was pouring from the wound and he stared at Thomas as the golden elevator descended into the dark depths of the mine. Black hair gleamed as Thomas stepped out onto the tile floor then turned to pull him out, to lay him against one of the vats.

The man stayed crouched over him for a moment, "I'm going to stop this."

There was something, a steadiness, in Thomas's eyes that made him think the baronet wasn't going to come back. Weakly, he wrapped his arms around Thomas's shoulders to pull him into a brief kiss. Again, he slipped into unconsciousness and still when he woke to find only Edith crouched over him the tears fell.


End file.
